


Of all the things this unremarkable house has seen

by ThatWALKERKid



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fox Mulder Angst, MSR, The Unremarkable House (X-Files)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22360570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWALKERKid/pseuds/ThatWALKERKid
Summary: It’s the unremarkable house... but it wasn’t always. It was home, it was love, it was the thunderstorm of passion that was his relationship with Scully. Until it wasn’t and upon reflection, Mulder knew, his unremarkable house could be a home again. He just had to ride out the storm.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	Of all the things this unremarkable house has seen

**Author's Note:**

> I love the unremarkable house. I’ve always felt that while so much has happened there, things we didn’t get to see, so much more still could. Not sure if this will be a one shot or not.. let me know if u want me to write more chaps! 
> 
> All the vibes 
> 
> Mel xx (@theQueerwriter)

* * *

The house was unremarkable.

And there it sat, rooted in the wide open surroundings, where the hot summer winds danced through the long grasses, begging forgiveness for the lack of cool reprieve that it provided, where the stars sang choruses at night undeterred by the polarising lights from the city off in the distance; it’s long gravel drive the only thing connecting it to the outside world. 

Mulder jogged up the steps onto the porch, his arms behind his head trying to catch his breath. Sweat beaded and slipped from his shoulders down his bare chest, soaking into the waistband of his shorts, the last wisps of dry, summer air did little to cool his flushed skin with its heat. The sun had begun to set, casting hues of red and orange into his vision as he looked out beyond his unremarkable dwelling to the world he felt like he no longer belonged in. 

He’d taken up running again in recent months, the physical exertion flushing his body, clearing his mind, allowing him to see past the perpetual fog his brain had seemed to have galvanised into the normal. Feeling his pulse quicken, hearing his heartbeat pounding in his ears, pushing his muscles to the point of burning provided him with a glimpse of the person he used to be, person somehow lost in the deafeningly silent cacophony that was his existence without the FBI; without Scully.

Running a hand through his damp hair, breathing beginning to return to normal, the burning in his lungs dissipating, Mulder sat down on the top step, feet laying claim to a lower one and did what he always did after returning from a run, he stared at the spot where Scully’s car used to be; allowing his clear mind to devolve into thoughts of the past, of why she was no longer here, of things said, of all that had been done here in the unremarkable house. 

He supposed it hadn’t always been unremarkable; not when Scully had been around. It was a home, filled with love, hope and happiness. It had been a place where holidays had found new meaning, where the calamity of thunderstorms had been drowned out by purposeful explorations, bodies crashing against each other, painting pictures fit for art galleries, chasing the others pleasure without care for their own and where he had promised to love her forever. 

Staring at the space her car used to be, longing for it to be filled once again, hit him with a pang of guilt, of sadness, of anger, it gnawed at his stomach, twisting and turning, overwhelming him at times. He knew he had no right to be angry, but he had been and was, because now the house was just bricks and mortar and wood; it mirrored him in the way he just existed, no other purpose than to be and he hated it; hated himself. 

And if the truth still meant anything to him, he hated Scully a little for leaving him, placing him in a position where he could see himself for who he’d become. She’d laid him bare like a corpse on the autopsy table, ever the skilful doctor, scalpel opening his chest, bolt cutters snapping ribs until his heart was displayed for all to see; its beat long since stopped, leaving a lump of cold flesh behind. 

His hate sat thick and bitter on his tongue. It had laced his words that he’d spat like venom at her the night she left; wanting to shift blame to anywhere but himself. The cruelness of them had opened the rift between them to a deep gorge, leaving room between that seemed to echo his demons back at him. She had tried to explain, to help me understand but all Mulder could see was that she was leaving him, that the one thing he could always count on was falling away into the abyss of his own creation. 

So day after day he ran and then sat on his porch thinking about how long it had taken for Scully to answer his phone calls, to accept his apology for how he’d treated her and for her to believe him when he’d told her all the things he’d said to her that night weren’t true. He had broken her, taken her soul and shattered it with heartless words which were all just preamble to the kicker and that was that he was the problem and he hadn’t wanted to face it; to face becoming the unremarkable man, living in an unremarkable house. 

Time, he’d once thought had been his enemy but as the months had passed and the anger stopped warming him with its firery tendrils, Mulder had begun to understand Scully had given up a hell of a lot over the years; had sacrificed her health, her reputation, her life to find the truth with him. And now all she wanted was a little bit of normal, something to show for her sacrifices and he had laughed at her, diminished her and everything they’d been though together all because he couldn’t let go, couldn’t see that the truth he had been searching for and needed had been right in front of him the whole time. 

The sky darkened further, thick, angry rain laden clouds gathered above him as he sat and contemplated his future. The thunder clapped, booming heavily as the lightening struck the ground in the distance. Mulder felt it fitting, the push and pull, the give and take of the storm above him. He couldn’t help but think of Scully and how they had always been like a thunderstorm; he was the thunder and she had been the lightening, a swirling mess but perfectly in sync, behind that flash of light came the rolling rumbles of sound. 

Leaning back on his hands, Mulder watched the sky open up, a symphony pitching back and forth, painting hope for something new as rain began to fall. He pulled out his cell phone, it’s screen illuminating to show he had a missed call and a new voice mail from Scully. He silently berated himself for not catching, for not being there for her yetagain. It may have just been a call, but the ground they’d covered to get to this point had been hard fought and he didn’t want to go backwards now, he couldn’t. 

Pressing the notification he put the phone to his ear to listen; his heart clenching slightly as her voice came over the line. 

“Hey Mulder, it’s me. Sorry I haven’t called sooner. Things have been really crazy at the hospital and I haven’t had time, which I know sounds like an excuse. There’s always time. I went there to be. Thank you for the flowers you sent for my mom’s birthday. She would have loved them just as much as she did you. I hope you’re taking care of yourself, I worry about you.... if you’re home this afternoon, there’s meant to be a storm front moving in- I know how much you enjoy it when they hit. Please be careful sitting on the porch to watch it, being electrocuted isn’t as fun as you might think. Anyway, I just wanted to market sure you were okay.”

There was a long pause, causing him to think the message had ended but he heard a deep sigh permeate the line before she continued. 

“I miss you Mulder. Please know that.. take care of yourself. I lo... talk soon. bye.”

The tell tale beep of call end signalled the message was over. He smiled sadly as he looked to the angry sky; she’d known he’d be watching the storm and how reckless he was about being outside for it. He’d also caught her unfinished I love you and held onto the sentiment of the call. She still cared even after all he had put her through. He knew he had down wrong, had forced her hand but now he felt a spark of hope. The smallest of flickers that he would nurture, love and protect until such time as it blossoms into a raging inferno. He had a hell of a lot of work to do before he could even consider himself okay enough to suggest to Scully that he was his old self again, no, to suggest to her that he was new, reborn from his flaws and unrelenting mistakes of the past, that he could give her everything she’d asked for and deserved. 

So for now, he’d run and he’d sit and think and heal, rebuild himself with the small pieces she’d give him until he was whole and ready to watch any storm with her, until he could be the remarkable man with his house as a home, built just for her. 


End file.
